Did he want to do this? What message would he send?

Then his message icon lit up.

Adam. Words appeared on the screen.

You free tomorrow? Have class til 8 but free after.

Nick’s heart skipped ahead of him, dancing in circles. But he’d already blown off physics tonight, and he had a paper due in two days.

He probably shouldn’t seem too eager, either.

God, he couldn’t believe he was even having this conversation with himself. He typed back quickly.

Have to study.

As soon as he pressed SEND, he wanted to punch the phone.

He had to study? Seriously? What the hell was wrong with him?

He so couldn’t play this from the other side. How would Adam read that? As rejection? More likely, that Nick was the biggest nerd to walk the earth. The phone silently mocked him, not offering any further messages.

Then, just as he was about to set it on his side table, the display lit again.

Study here?

Nick smiled.

You’re on.

CHAPTER 6

Nick rubbed at his eyes and told himself to focus. He was usually the first one to hand in a completed test, but more than half the class had walked their papers up to the front of the room. Even Gustav Asciak, the foreign exchange student who barely spoke a lick of English, had turned in his paper.

Nick still had half the test to complete. He never should have blown off studying. He kept mixing up the formulas, and the more he told his brain to spit out the information, the more it supplied him with thoughts of what he had been doing last night.

Adam’s eyes.

Adam’s hands.

Adam’s—

Focus.

This wasn’t the end of the world. He had an A average in every single class, including this one. Getting a less than perfect score on one test wasn’t going to kill him.

But it was definitely going to piss him off. His GPA was everything. He wasn’t rolling in money, so he needed scholarships if he wanted to go away to school.

He could imagine the college rejection letters now. After learning that one kiss and a sleepless night led you to fail a test, we have decided you are no longer a fit for our institution . . .

The bell rang, and Nick snapped his head up. Students started shoving books into backpacks and pushing for the exit.

Holy shit. He still had seven questions left.

He kept writing, scribbling fast. The room cleared before he was halfway through the next problem. His thoughts were so scattered that he wasn’t sure he was tackling the question correctly.

“Nick.” Dr. Cutter appeared beside his desk, tapping a finger on the plastic surface. His voice was gentle but carried an air of finality. “Time is up, I’m afraid.”

Nick didn’t stop writing. “One minute?”

Dr. Cutter didn’t say anything for a long moment, but Nick felt his concern in the air.

Finally, he put a hand on Nick’s wrist, stilling his writing.

“Did you not understand the material?” he said. “I wish you had come to me earlier this week—”

“No.” This was pointless. Nick put his pencil down and rubbed at his eyes. “I understood it.”

The teacher picked up the test and flipped through the pages.

“You’ve missed the entire last section.”

Like he didn’t know that. Nick focused on the pencil, wishing he could stab it straight through his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to study. I kept mixing up the formulas.”

Dr. Cutter sat down at the desk beside him. “Is something going on at home?”

Nick knew this voice. He’d heard it twelve dozen times since his parents died. While teachers and counselors had learned to steer clear of Gabriel’s temper, they knew they could seek answers from Nick. Are you okay? Are you getting enough to eat?

Is your brother doing enough to take care of you?

But he was seventeen now, and way too old to get a pass for something like that.

Especially when failing this test had nothing to do with problems at home, and everything to do with one dark-haired dancer.

God, you’re obsessed.

“No,” he said. “Home’s fine. Really.”

Dr. Cutter wasn’t convinced. “Girlfriend?”

Nick looked at him. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

“This is a unit test. If you fail, you’ll have to get someone from home to sign it.”

Michael probably wouldn’t be angry, but he’d definitely want an explanation. That was almost worse.

So, Michael, there’s this guy . . .

Nick cleared his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll catch up.”

His teacher studied him, and Nick told himself not to look away. Finally, Dr. Cutter clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you do a retake. Friday?”

This was a pity move. Nick knew it, and pride was pricking at him to refuse. Like with his brothers, Dr. Cutter was judging him on what he expected from Nick. But this was an AP class, and his performance here might carry a lot of weight when colleges started dishing out funds.

He told his pride to stick it. “That would be great. Thank you.”

AP Calculus wasn’t much better. Nick had completely forgotten to do the homework. Three questions—three stupid questions!—but he’d never gotten around to opening his assignment book last night, so he hadn’t bothered to do them.

He mentally added another zero to his imaginary grade sheet.

At least this was only homework.

By the time he sat at a table at lunch, he was ready for some cutlery, just so he could stab something.